


Arrows and Automata

by noo



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noo/pseuds/noo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen, now the Marquis of Starling, has returned from the Orient with confirmation of his father's and the crew of the Gambit's death. His return has been welcomed with open arms by his family and the ton, as a titled, handsome (not always necessary for approval) and, most importantly, rich young gentleman was welcome everywhere.</p><p>Oliver would prefer a more quiet life, but a book from his father and murderous rogues afoot in London have caused him to don his green hood once more. Mysterious machines in the possession of the rogues and villains will lead him to an intriguing lady with secrets of her own and then both of them to an Undertaking they will do everything within their powers to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrows and Automata

**London, 1817**

“21 Meard Street, as Mr. Steele confirmed.” Oliver heard called out, Diggle obviously not appreciative of his reticence in leaving the carriage. The carriage slowing had caused Oliver to look out at the row of small townhouses he could see through the window.

The house was of a dark brick with white painted Doric columns flanking the lower window and doorway. It was a type common through much of Soho. No change in the five years he had been away here, unlike the New Street that was causing chaos and complaints for the slowness of the building works and the noisy workers intruding into Mayfair’s environs.

Oliver opened the door himself and jumped down before Diggle could leave his box. The street was narrow and darkened at this end with the late afternoon sunlight struggling to enter the area. Completely uniform houses of a modest four stories met his sight on both sides of the street. They were not of quality as he was used to viewing in Mayfair, but they were in line with residences of prosperous traders and lower gentry down from the Country who could afford a house or room here in Soho. It was only to be expected that within one of the houses he would find the artisan who might be able to ascertain the secrets of the automata, the self-operating machine, one of his nightly forays under the hood had discovered.

“Stay and walk the horses. I shall not be long,” Oliver ordered as he reached back in to collect the automata machine. He avoided looking at Diggle, knowing the man would not be best pleased. Holding the machine carefully against his hip he strode the few steps to the well appointed eight-panelled door of no. 21 and knocked before resting his hand on the iron railings guarding the steps leading to belowstairs.

Behind him he could hear Diggle jumping down from his own perch and leading the horses down the paved street as per his order, the clacking of the hooves and the rolling wheels fading as Diggle led them down to Wardour Street. A curtain twitched back into place at the neighbouring house as the door opened and Oliver used his most charming smile on the small maid who peeked around the small opening of the doorway.

oOo

With his back to the window, Oliver quietly perused the quite small parlour the maid had shown him into. Deep red coverings on the floor, wall and window of a type he was familiar with, but splashes of other colours could be found in unexpected places. In pride of place on the little table at the back of the room was a small music box with a monkey seated before a pianoforte. Another table held a variety of _objets d'art_ in close proximity to each other, but not the music box. Oliver walked closer all the better to view the item and saw an opening for a key near the base, but there was no key around. It was a delicate item, very finely wrought, seeming out of place in the room that was not as well appointed as he was used to.

He turned quickly as he heard the door open and he waited for his first glimpse of Mistress Smoak. 

She was considerably younger than he was expecting for a woman who worked for one of the best jewelers in London. She was well-dressed in a white morning dress that seemed so conventional for a London woman, although he noted it was not in the height of fashion as Thea’s dress. She was slender with a good figure which the bright red shawl could not hide. Under her cap peeked out blonde curls and the glasses perched on the end of her nose did nothing to hide the beauty of her clear blue eyes, eyes that were looking at him in shock.

Oliver tried to ascertain if he had ever seen her before to cause the look in her eyes.

“Mistress Smoak? I am Oliver Queen,” he introduced himself.

“My Lord Starling…” she replied, sounding a little flustered.  
“That was my father,” he said.

“Yes, but he is dead, drowned at sea. But you are not and are in my front parlour and oh, my, I have not invited you to sit.”

Oliver smiled at her ramble. While others might have annoyed him with such blunt speaking; from her lips he found himself amused at her forthrightness, obviously caused by one such as him visiting her home. He wanted to put her at ease. He waited while she seated herself on the divan near the low burning fire. She had indicated the chair nearest him, opposite her own choice and he sat, bringing the carefully wrapped automata forward to place on the small table in between.

“I was informed that you have a singular talent for automata machines and I have one that has ceased working late one night after I spilled some port on it.” 

Oliver had started to unwrap the machine from the white coarse cloth Diggle had obtained for him, when Mistress Smoak’s hands waved his away. She leaned forward, granting him a view he was sure she was unaware of. He smiled more to see her youthful charms that she had been trying to hide underneath a bright red shawl. The shawl dropped off her shoulders to pool on the settee, the red fabrics of both blending together. He enjoyed the contrast of the brightness of colour with the creamy colour of her skin. Warmth was the overriding image he gained from his observations within the room. The fireplace was not the primary cause of warmth within the room, the fire too small to do more than take the edge off the chill from outside. The warmth was more from the stirring she created within him and the warmth of her smile as she slipped off her seat to kneel on the floor, all the better to observe the machine. That smile was not directed at him.

The machine was a cruder version of one he had seen in other houses, Hunt’s and Somers’, but similar enough to know that he thought there had to be some tie with the list. The discovery that the oddly shaped drawing of lines that was on the front of the list book his father had given him was imprinted on the bottom of the machine sealed the machine’s fate. He had to know it’s secrets. 

As she turned the machine around, she looked up at him.

“I do not believe port was the issue,” she told him.

“It stopped working afterwards,” Oliver replied, smiling down at her.

She put her finger into a small hole in the metal at the base of the figure and then another a little higher before looking up at him. “Port doesn’t make holes that look like sharp piercings.”

“My man bought some port from down near the docks,” Oliver lied.

He knew he could feel his lips twitching at the look of disbelief on her face and if he was not mistaken there was even a delicate arch to one of her eyebrows.

“If you could get it working again, as I have some friends I would like to show it to, it would be greatly appreciated,” Oliver said. “Send a message to my lodgings when you have news.” Oliver placed his card down on the table near to her hand that was delicately resting on the base.

“Mm Hmm,” she replied, not looking up as she was once again engrossed in the machine. Oliver was unused to being ignored by women, but instead of bothering him, he was amused by her inattention.

“Thank you for looking at the machine,” he said as he stood noting she was still fixated on the object.

“Edith can show you out,” Mistress Smoak replied as she too stood, ignoring the hand he put out to help her. She picked up the machine, leaving the covering lying discarded on the table next to his card. Her hands were both occupied with gently holding the machine, and Oliver noted that there was an underlying strength to her in being able to lift it so easily from the table, mindful of its bulk.

Oliver picked up the card to hand it to her and she finally raised her eyes to look at him.

“My card,” he offered as he motioned with it in her direction.

“Yes, I saw. I will send you a message as soon as it is repaired. I will have to contact another to fix the outer casing.”

Oliver dropped the card back onto the table when it became obvious she was not going to take it, her hands occupied with the machine.

“I do not need it to look pretty. I just want to see it working first,” he said, time being of the essence to discover what the automata could reveal.

She nodded, her plump lips parted slightly, so very pink and with the hint of rogue upon them. He had noted them in his earlier perusal of her charms, but the parting of her lips caused another feeling of warmth to spread once again. Mistress Smoak was an intrigue that might need closer inspection.

Oliver glanced at Edith, the small maid who had bade him enter the house earlier. She had been sitting silently and unnoticed by him during the whole exchange with her Mistress. It had been many years since he had been unaware of the presence of another in a room. He glanced back at the Mistress to wonder what it was about her that had held his notice entirely. Walter’s glowing reports of her skills had made him wonder if she was connected with any of the others he had been dealing with on his nightly excursions, but her name had not appeared on the list. He had been mindful to take care with his dealings with her, but her presence itself had been a distraction.

Edith gestured at the door and Oliver took the unspoken hint that his time of converse was at an end. He in turn indicated for Mistress Smoak to precede him. His mother had raised a gentleman, and while it might be considered generally beyond the pale for a man to converse in a room alone with a woman, propriety had been kept with the presence of the maid. Oliver slowed his exit from the room all the better to observe Mistress Smoak walking down the narrow passageway and start up the stairs at the end, turning the machine slowly in her hands as she went. A small table stood to the side of where Oliver now stood and he observed a number of letters addressed to her.

Mistress Smoak she was no longer. She had a name. Felicity.

oOo

Oliver looked both ways looking for where Diggle and the carriage now were. He walked in the direction of Dean Street, and once he rounded the small bend in the road he spied both Diggle and the carriage. His cloak, returned and placed around his shoulders by Edith as he had exited the house, flowed briskly around his ankles as he walked. His hands now empty after the delivery of the automata he noticed his fingers rubbing together. His cane was discarded, left in the carriage with Diggle.

As Oliver stepped up into the carriage, he ordered Diggle to take him home. He had a reconnoiter to plan. His meeting with her, Felicity, had been carefully planned. He could now be back in his rooms in time to order supper and to be left alone for the rest of the Evening without raising suspicion. Then it would not be difficult for him to slip out from his rooms, undetected, and with his Hood in place to watch and see if Felicity had a connection to any on his list.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have this "little" thing for the Regency period that is completely the fault of my father. He put the novels of Georgette Heyer in my hands as a teenager and I have loved that period ever since. The changes to the world as most knew it was happening very fast, helped along by the wars in Europe and North America. It was completely the period of _Elegance and Decadence_! 
> 
> This little plot bunny hit me basically as I love any excuse to put my favourite characters within that period and see if I can make a story 'work'. As this is an AU, I can change a few things historically, but overall I like to try and keep it as close as plausible as I can for the era, even if we are dealing with guys playing Robin Hood! (Felicity's blonde hair is very much a problem!)
> 
> Many thanks as always to the lovely [DianaMoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaMoon/pseuds/DianaMoon) for the beta work.
> 
> There will not be set updates of days for this work. I don't write that way, but as the muse strikes me, and the story develops, I will post away. I love to hear what people think and any chance to talk about the period and the things I discover research, I will take. :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the start! Oh and knowing myself, that rating is definitely going to go up!


End file.
